


Mock Imitation

by alphvjensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Finger Sucking, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Shifter Dean, Shifter Dean Winchester, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He and his brother reeked of sin and lies and deceit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mock Imitation

**Author's Note:**

> So this thing kicked my ass the entire time I wrote it but here you go. Kinda nervous about the turn out. Just everything about it was super difficult to write. You'll see why. I mean I have two different Dean's but I have to make one of them not really be like Dean but still seem Dean like. My brain still hurts from trying to figure it all out. But here you go. This idea that I've been obsessed with forever and I've finally gotten pen to paper.

He’s been so many people that he’s no longer remembered the names of who he’s been. At one point he could tell you the name of every skin that he had taken.

When he was younger, so much younger than what he was now, he changed skins so often that somewhere along the line he had lost himself and now he shifted through people trying to find the man that he once was.

He was always the outcast, the person that people always looked at funny no matter who he was wearing at the moment. It was like they all knew that he was only and imposter in sheep’s clothing.

And then those two boys walked into town and he was drawn to them. The younger was, an outcast to his own family and the older one, oh god the older one was just like him. An outcast to the world. Always seen and easily forgotten.

He and his brother reeked of sin and lies and deceit.

* * *

It’s not, Dean. He kept repeating to himself as he watched the thing that looks like his brother pace back and forth across the room, hand playing with the amulet that’s hanging so treacherously around his neck. The monster… Dean… it stared back at Sam, eyes wide with amusement watching as Sam squirmed and wiggled and tried to free him from the ropes that tied him to the I-beam.

He pulled at the ropes, groaning in frustration as they only seemed to get tighter and looked up at the shifter, still not ready to admit defeat.

“Where is Dean?” He growled through clenched teeth.

The monster smirked as he took a step closer to Sam, throwing his arms wide from his body as if he was showing himself off. “I am Dean.”

“You’re not my brother.” Yes, the shifter looks like his brother, so very much like his brother, down to the very last freckle. Sounded like him, even smelled like Dean but everything is was wrong about this version that was walking around. His smile was a little too twisted, his voice a little too teasing. Even the way he walked was wrong.

“Oh Sammy…”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Sam cut him off, lurching against his binds as if he were going to jump at the monster.

But it only smiled, his features twisting into something that looked so wrong on his face. “Sammy, I am your brother… or will be.” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes shutting as he nearly shook, face contorting into a look of pain until he opened his eyes again, standing even taller, looking so sure of himself, so much more like his brother and Sam had to repeat the mantra in his head that this is monster was not his brother. His brother was somewhere else, either hurt or burning down worlds trying to find him.

“You know, I thought that I was a freak. Spent my entire life believing that. I thought that I was sick and twisted in the head but oh Sam, your brother…” He laughed, a sound that sounded so much like Dean. “Your brother is really fucked in the head.”

He moved in closer, hands on either side of his body, face inches away from Sam’s. Sam pulled his head back as far as he could, trying to not breathe cause fuck, he smelled so much like his brother.

“You wouldn’t believe the things that your brother…” he paused for a moment. “The things that I want to do to you.” He leaned in closer, inches, centimeters away.

Sam couldn’t go anywhere. His body tied up and bound, trapped by rope and metal and the monster that was wearing his brother. He watched with wide eyes as the monster moved to sit in Sam’s lap, straddling him. Dean cupped Sam’s face, eyes all of the sudden having gone soft, all the taunting disappeared as he traced his jaw.

And Sam was only so strong. If he closed his eyes he could imagine, just for a moment that this was Dean, his Dean, that was touching him like this. All soft fingertips and comforting touches and despite himself, he found himself leaning into the touch, just a little bit.

“There’s so many things that I want to do to you, Sam. So many things. Have for so long. Ever since you were a small child, stumbling towards me on chubby little legs, I wanted to have you.” Sam clenched his jaw shut, refusing to believe this. This wasn’t true. It wasn’t. “And then you grew up into something that was a sin and Sam… there’s so many dirty, filthy things that I want to do to you.”

Sam yanked his head out of the shifters hold, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop.” He begged. “Please, just stop.” But inside he was screaming out for him to keep going, to keep talking, to keep telling him everything that he ever wanted to hear.

“There’s so many first that I wanted to be for you, Sammy. I wanted to be the one to pop your cherry. So young, so innocent. I wanted it all.” His voice was soft but there was an accusing taunting lilt to his words. “We were so good for each other. Me and you against the world but then you had to go off and break my heart, running away to school and straight into the arms of that blonde bitch. She never did love you the way that I could.”

Sam’s eyes snapped open at the mention of Jessica.

He growled, baring his teeth. “Don’t talk about her like that!”

And the monster pulled away from Sam, lips pulled back into an amused smile, laughing. “You’re a little fucked in the head too, aren’t cha Sammy? I talk about wanting to fuck you like the little slut you are and you don’t even flinch but the moment that I bring up your dead girlfriend…”

“Don’t talk about her.” He snapped again.

It was one thing for the monster to talk about a hidden desires and a love that was so wrong, so dirty. One sin talking about another but Sam couldn’t listen to it talk about something that was so pure. He couldn’t let the monster stain the memory of a girl that he didn’t deserve.

The monster held up his hands in a fake surrender. “Alright, don’t talk about the dead girlfriend.” He smirked. “That’s fine. I just wanted to talk about you and me and everything that I’m going to do to you anyway.”

He sat there in Sam’s lap, staring at him. Sam tried to focus on anything other than the man that was playing his brother but the shifter was sucking on his bottom lip, his thumb running back and forth across Sam’s jaw. He looked at Sam, his beautiful green eyes darkened with want and desire and with every second that passed, Sam found it harder to repeat the fact that this wasn’t his brother. His brother wasn’t sitting in his lap, looking at him like he was the only person in the entire world that he could ever want.

The monster leaned forward before Sam really has time to register what was happening and kissed him. It’s tentative at first, slow and cautious like he’s trying it out, seeing how it feels and then something in Dean broke and then he’s really kissing him. He’s got his hands holding Sam’s face, thrusting his tongue into Sam’s mouth and Sam groaned because he fucking tastes like the way that he always imagined his brother to taste. He pulled away all too soon, plucking at Sam’s bottom lip playfully before resting his head against Sam’s forehead.

The shifter traced his thumb over Sam’s wet bottom lip.

“He’s been wanting to do that since forever. Years, Sam. Fucking years. Wanted to kiss those lips fucking raw.”

“Yeah?” Sam croaked because his brain seemed to have shut off and he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” The shifter repeated. “He’s been wanting to do that and so much more to you.” The shifter dropped his hand from Sam’s face, his fingers trailing down Sam’s chest, feeling how Sam seemed to twitch under his touch.

Even though Sam knew that this wasn’t Dean, his body still reacted to the touch, still reacted as if this was Dean and if it was his brother touching him the way that he wanted him too. The shifter just smiled at Sam, watching the way that Sam’s face contorted into something of pleasure as he palmed his half-hard cock through his jeans.

Sam made one last feebly attempt to beg the shifter, Dean, the monster not to do this, to let him go.

But the shifter only slipped his hand under Sam’s shirt, fingers teasing at the skin just above the waistband of his jeans. He’s teasing, taunting Sam, giving him what he wanted and Sam can’t stand to look at the man that was in his lap.

He can’t look at the mock imitation of his brother that looks so much like him but so very wrong.

He doesn’t as much hear the monster chuckle as feel the vibrations as he nosed along Sam’s jaw, mouth wet and open as he finds that spot just below Sam’s ear. He closed his eyes as the shifter dipped his hand into the front of Sam’s jeans, wrapping his hand around his cock that was slowly becoming harder under his touch.

He jumped when he heard his brother’s voice, his actually brother’s voice, pulling him Sam from the place that he put himself mentally.

“Get the fuck off my brother, you freak.” Dean growled, looking at the pair. Eyes lingering on the shifter, taking in how close he was to Sam.

The shotgun that was in his hands pointed towards the shifter but he wasn’t going to take the shot, couldn’t take the shot. Not this close, not with Sam right behind the shifter. He wasn’t going to risk the bullet going through the shifter and through the heart of his brother.

The monster turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Dean, smirking before turning back towards Sam. He pulled his hand from Sam’s pants, reaching around Sam to grab something that was on the floor. He’s not sure what he grabbed until he threw it at Dean, an old dirty towel and the heavy weight of the man is suddenly gone.

Dean mutters a son of a bitch as he pulled the towel from his body, seeing that in the moment of surprise, the shifter had run from the room, slipping past him. Dean looked at the door that the shifter went through and then at his tied up brother not even having to think about who to go after.

“At least he was smart enough to pick the handsomer Winchester,” Dean muttered as he pulled out his knife and cut through the ropes that kept Sam bound.

His mind was still reeling, the ghost of the shifters fingers still leaving goosebumps on his skin. Dean peeks his head around Sam’s body, face pulled together in a look of concern and confusion at the lack of a response from Sam from his comment.

“Hey, you alright, Sam?”

Sam nodded, still not trusting his voice to speak.

Dean smiled, pulling himself to stand. “Now, get up off your ass. We’ve got a handsome devil to catch.”

Sam followed Dean, grabbing the gun that Dean had handed him and chased after the shifter. The corridor that they were going down was small, there wasn’t enough room for the brothers to stand side by side and so Sam continued to follow, watching the darkened silhouette of his brother.

Dean didn’t say much, opting to hunt down the monster in silence. Words would echo off the walls, amplifying the sound, signalling to the shifter just where exactly where they were. So it was nothing but silence.

Somewhere off in the distance, water dripped.

Sam really wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. He was following Dean, watching him move through the darkness but it was as if he was watching it through water. He was there but the picture was disoriented. His mind was still tied up against that beam, the shifter… Dean… sitting in his lap, kissing him, touching him, telling him every single dirty sin that he ever thought of.

He doesn’t notice that Dean’s stopped until he literally runs into him and Dean turns to shot him a very pointed look. Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder, seeing why Dean suddenly stopped. The corridor that they were heading down suddenly split into two separate hallways and Sam’s gut twisted at the thought of them having to split up.

“You take right, I go left?” Dean suggested and despite the uneasy feeling that Sam had, he nodded in agreement. “Alright. We’ll meet back up at the Impala if we don’t find him, okay.” Sam nods again and is a little shocked when Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys and handed them to Sam. “I’ll see you back at the car. Stay safe.”

And with that, Dean disappeared down the darkened hallway.

Sam stood at the fork for a moment, pocketing the keys before willing himself to move.

Every little sound made Sam jump. He wasn’t sure if he could handle coming face to face with the shifter again. Not after what happened. He wasn’t sure if he could keep himself from allowing that shifter to do whatever the hell he wanted to do.

But fortunately for him, he saw nothing. There was no sign that the shifter went down this way and Sam hoped that, for at least his sake, that Dean had found the shifter and that all of this was over.

Dean was waiting by the Impala, leaning against the sleek black car, the moonlight reflecting off of him, practically making his glow, the metal from the amulet that hung around his neck catching the light, when Sam managed to pull himself from the sewers and get back to where they had parked the car before the shifter had kidnapped him.

“Did you find him?” Dean asked as Sam pulled out the keys from his pocket, tossing them to Dean. He looked at Sam as he walked around the car to his respective side.

Sam shook his head. “No. I didn’t find anything. He just… disappeared.”

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before ducking into the car. Sam followed in suit.

“Alright. So, I guess head back to the motel room, regroup, head back out in the morning.” He talked as if nothing had changed between the two of them, as if another version of him literally just kissed him, had his hands down in his pants. And of course Dean acted as if nothing had changed between the two of them because he didn’t know. He didn’t know what Sam knew, what Sam allowed that shifter to do to him.

It was business as usual for Dean and Sam was going to have to live with the memories of what he could have if only they weren’t brothers.

Dean was going on about something that was unimportant, probably talking about the very chesty waitress that Dean wanted to bang and that hurt Sam in more ways than what he could explain. Dean, his Dean, wouldn’t ever look at Sam in the way that he would look at the waitress.

“Hey, man, you alright? You look a little tense.” Dean’s voice shook Sam from his thoughts and he jumped.

“What? Yeah. Yeah… I’m fine.” Sam stammered out in a reply, sounding oh so little convincing.

Dean looked over at him, a small frown appearing on his face, seeing through Sam’s lie as if it were a sheet of glass. “You sure? You’ve been quiet ever since I untied you. The shifter didn’t say anything, did he?”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat because the shifter didn’t just say something, he said everything.

“No.” Sam lied again. “Just the same old monster shit. Him bragging about how he was going to kill you and then me.” His voice was steady, sounding as if he were speaking the truth and that there weren’t lies spilling from his mouth.

Dean turned to look at him briefly again, the corners of his mouth turned downwards in a small frown but he didn’t say anything else, he didn’t press anything and Sam was grateful for it. This was one thing that Dean was never going to learn the truth about. Sam was going to keep him mouth shut and lie about it until he believed that it was all just some sick twisted dream.

The Impala pulled into the motel parking lot, the headlights illuminating the few cars that were scattered around before he pulled to a stop in front of the room.

Dean shot him another concerned look when Sam made no move to get out of the car but he shot him a small smile, an unspoken sign that everything was going to be okay and Dean grabbed his jacket and Sam watched through the windshield as Dean went into the motel room. He had to take a moment, collect his thoughts, pretend that everything was okay before he followed Dean inside.

By the time that Sam opened the door and stepped inside, Dean was already sprawled out on his bed, stripped of his jacket and his shoes were at the edge of his bed. His eyes were focused on the tv that he had turned on, a bottle of beer hanging loosely in his fingers.

Sam shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it down on his bed before passing Dean to head to the bathroom.

He wasn’t going to be able to do this, to pretend. Every time he looked at Dean, looking so innocently beautiful, he thought of the shifter, the way that it felt to have him in his lap, touching him, kissing him. He wasn’t going to be able to pretend that the shifter didn’t do anything. He wasn’t strong enough to do that.

There was going to be a day that he breaks and he’ll tell Dean everything and then Dean would leave him on the side of the road like the freak he was.

He gripped the edge of the sink, his head hanging heavy in between his shoulders as his hair fell in his face.

He splashed water on his face after several long moments, tried to wipe the weariness from out underneath his eyes and walked back into the bedroom, ready to slip underneath the covers and sleep forever.

Dean watched him as he walked across the room, picked up his jacket and folded it.

“Dude, you sure you’re alright?” Dean asked, concern lacing his voice as Sam walked over to his bag, his back still turned towards his brother and pulled out what he was going to sleep in.

He nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m fine… just… tired.”

He shifted through his bag, trying to find the t-shirt that he wanted to sleep in and he couldn’t seem to find it. Frustration started to boil in his blood as he pulled out shirt after shirt and it wasn’t the one that he wanted. Why couldn’t anything be easy for him? Why did everything have to be against him?

“You know, I saw it all.” Dean said suddenly and when Sam jerked his head up, dropping the shirt that he currently had in his hand and Dean’s right there, eyes shining bright with something that he could place in the darkness. He hadn’t heard Dean move from the bed.

“What are you… what are you talking about?” Sam stutters, feeling so much like a caged animal with how close Dean was standing next to him. All he wanted to do was run and hide but Dean’s gaze kept him frozen to the spot.

Dean leaned closer to Sam and despite the fact that Sam was the taller one of the two, he felt so small under Dean’s gaze.

“You know what I’m talking about, Sammy.” Dean taunted, his lips curling into a teasing smile and Sam tried to turn his head, tried to catch his breath but Dean grabbed his chin, keeping Sam from looking anywhere but at Dean. “What that shifter did, what he said. I saw it all, heard it all.”

“Dean…”

But Dean cuts him off with a tsk and Sam fell silent, watching the way that Dean’s green eyes were so dark, pupils blown wide looking at him with a predatory smile on his face.

“It’s alright, Sammy. You know why?” Sam shook his head because he didn’t know. He didn’t know how any of this was alright. Why Dean was looking at him like that. Dean leaned in closer, his mouth hovering right over his ear. “It’s alright because the shifter was right. I’ve wanted you forever.” Then he bit down on Sam’s earlobe and it’s all too much for Sam.

He feels like his knees are going to give out, that he’s going to collapse into a pile of limbs.

It was true. Dean wanted him. Dean wanted him in the same twisted way that he wanted him.

Sam wanted to kiss Dean. Wanted to feel his lips, not the shifters lips moving against him but when he leaned forward to kiss Dean, Dean pulled away laughing. A sound that came from deep within his chest, something dark and hushed and it sent chills down his spine.

“You don’t get to kiss me yet, baby boy.” Dean’s voice had dropped several octaves. “I asked you if that shifter said anything and you lied to me, Sammy. That shifter said a lot of things and you didn’t tell me any of it.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam tried, trying to put every apology he could in those few words. “I just didn’t… I didn’t think that you wanted me in the same way.”

“You thought that shifter was lying?” And Sam nodded his head. “Oh, baby boy…” Dean ran a hand down Sam’s face and Sam leaned into the touch, finding comfort in Dean’s warmth. “I’ve been dreaming about you for years. For what you would look like with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

There was a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Dean pushed him down to his knees. Dean ran a hand through Sam’s hair, pushing back the locks that had fallen in his face and Dean licked his bottom lip at the sight. Little Sammy on his knees, looking up at Dean, a perfect flush fanning across his beautiful face. He was so fucking perfect.

“You know what to do, Sammy.” Dean said in a much softer voice than what he had been using but there was still a dangerous lilt to it.

Sam didn’t break eye contact with Dean as he went to work on his pants, unbuckling the buckle, pulling them down his thighs. Dean stepped out of them, still holding his hand in Sam’s hair. Dean’s still covered by the material of his underwear and Sam leaned forward to mouth at Dean through the cotton. The wet heat of his mouth warming Dean up. Dean groaned and Sam didn’t waste much more time to pull down his underwear. He was now naked from the waist down and Dean pulled his hand from Sam’s hair only to remove his shirt.

Sam’s seen his brother naked many times before. Living like they did, nearly on top of each other, it was something that was normal but Sam had never seen his brother like this. He had never kneeled in front of Dean completely naked with Dean looking down at him with those beautiful hooded eyes.

Sam shifted on his knees, just slightly to get a little more comfortable, to get closer to Dean and he wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, barely licking at the tip. The salty taste of his brother hit his tongue and Sam groaned, unable to stop himself.

He wrapped a hand around the base of him, holding him as he took Dean deeper in his mouth. He ran his tongue up the sensitive underside of Dean all the while keeping eye contact with Dean because he didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.

He pulled off of Dean, licking a teasing broad stripe all the way from the base of him, all the way back up to the lip before wrapping his lips back around him.

Dean was shaking slightly, the hand that was in Sam’s hair tightening as he braced himself up against the wall, palm flat against the fading wallpaper.

“Fuck Sammy…” Dean muttered as Sam swallowed around him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat before he slowly licked back up his length.

But it’s not enough for Dean. He needs more. All of this slow teasing, the slow build, the soft lips and subtly swallows isn’t enough for him. He dropped his hand from the wall and wrapped it in Sam’s hair, holding Sam’s head and thrusted into Sam’s mouth, once, warning Sam as to what he was about to do.

And Sam, the good little brother he was, relaxed his jaw, the hand that was wrapped around the base of Dean’s cock, fell limp by his side and he gave himself over to Dean, allowing Dean to do what he wanted.

Sam’s mouth is everything that he wanted as he fucked into it, every thrust hitting the back of Sam’s throat. He can’t look away from Sam.

He’s so beautiful like this. Tears swelling in his eyes from the force of Dean’s thrust, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth and down his chin and god, the sounds that are coming from him. The choked off grunts and the little moans. It takes everything in Dean not to come down his throat within seconds.

“Fucking hell. That’s right, baby, take it all. Choke on my cock.” Dean moans out as he snapped his hips into Sam’s mouth.

Sam’s throat is so tight and so warm and Sam’s so pliant underneath him and it only take a half a dozen thrust before he’s coming long and hard down Sam’s throat. Sam has tears leaking down his face and Dean pulls out of him. He runs a comforting hand down Sam’s face, wiping away the tears before he’s wiping along the corner of Sam’s lip, pushing the spit and come back into his mouth.

“Swallow it all, Sam. Don’t be wasteful. Be a good boy.” And Sam sucks on Dean’s thumb, long and hard, pulling off with a wet pop.

Dean watched as Sam licked his lips clean and then leaned forward to lick up the little bit of come that still dripping from Dean’s cock. When there’s nothing else to lick up, Dean pulls Sam up to his feet, running his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“Such a fucking cockslut, Sammy.” Dean muttered as he makes quick work to rid Sam of his clothes and in a matter of seconds, Sam’s just a naked as Dean is.

Dean spun the two of them and he pushed Sam towards the mattress, a hand on his lower back and pushed him down on his stomach. Sam crawled up towards the pillows, bracing his body on his forearms, face pressed down into the mattress, ass up in the air for Dean.

He felt the bed dip behind him and he turned his head to see Dean kneeling behind him.

“So eager for this aren’t cha, Sammy. So fucking eager for your brother’s cock.” He chuckled, a sound that didn’t sound like him.

He feels Dean spread him open for him and he jumps when he feels two slick fingers slid inside of him. He stretched around Dean’s fingers, opening up more of him as Dean preps him. But Dean’s still so impatient, needing to be buried deep inside of Sam and he pulled his fingers free.

It’s all too much, all too fast. It’s too little prep and too little lube and it hurts when Dean pushed into him, slow but still too fast and Sam bit down onto the blankets to keep from screaming out.

Slowly Dean’s seated inside of Sam, Sam filled up completely and pleasure sparks right underneath the surface, under the pain and this time Sam groans. Dean echoed the sound when he pulled out just a little bit, looking down to watch his cock disappear inside of Sam, inch by inch.

Dean shuddered at the feeling of Sam being so tight around him and he moan, eyes closing at the pressure that was around his cock. Sam feels so good. So fucking good. All warm and wet and tight.

Sam bucked up begging for Dean to move and Dean smiled.

Dean runs his hand up Sam’s back, feeling the way that Sam moved and squirmed underneath him and he pressed two fingers to Sam’s lips. Sam moans when he realized what Dean’s wants.

He runs his tongue over the pad of Dean’s fingers, getting the wet before wrapping his lips around them. He takes them as far down his throat as he can, swallowing around them with everything thrust.

Dean’s had his body draped over Sam’s back, his mouth closing around a spot on his neck, sucking hard, his other hand reaching around Sam’s body to wrap around his own cock, slowing pumping him. Sam’s moaning around Dean’s fingers and Dean’s picking up his pace, hips driving faster into Sam.

It’s all so much. Dean’s fingers down his throat, his fingers wrapped around his cock. He has tears leaking from the corner of his eyes and all Sam can do is beg for more. He pushed his ass up closer to Dean, wanting to feel more of Dean and he tries to swallow around Dean’s finger even deeper and Dean’s above him, telling him to take even more, that he can do it.

Sam’s so wrapped up in the feelings that were racing through his body that he doesn’t hear the door open and the man above him only drives his hips deeper into Sam making Sam cry out.

In pain. In pleasure.

“Sam, what the hell? I thought…” but then the words were frozen in his throat as he looked at the scene that was taking place on his bed and Sam pulls his head up from the mattress to see him.

Dean, his Dean, his brother, not the mock imitation of him stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth agape, his jacket halfway off, looking at the sprawled out form of his baby brother, stripped completely naked being pinned down by a man that looked like himself.

But Sam was too far gone to completely register what he was seeing, what it meant, what it was going to do to them.

“Hello, Dean-o,” the shifter taunted, looking at the man that he based himself off of. “Your baby brother’s beautiful like this, isn’t he?” The shifter bent back down, kissing up Sam’s back, his neck, his lips hovering over his ear. “Go ahead and come for me, Sammy. Let your brother see it. Let your brother see how beautiful you are when you come.”

And Sam did. Only because his brother asked him to and he would do anything for his brother.

He grabbed at the blankets, fingers curling into the comforter, trying to ground himself as he moaned out Dean’s name.

The shifter chuckled in his ear, using Sam’s body for his own pleasure, searching for his own release.

Dean watched from the doorway, watched as the shifter smirked as he slammed into Sam, Sam’s body moving along the mattress from the force of it. He absentmindedly pulled out his gun, cocking it, waiting for the shifter to pull himself from Sam’s spent body so he could drop him.

The smirk that was plastered on the shifters face faltered for a second as he gripped Sam’s waist, coming deep inside of him.

He pulled out, not even bothering to look at Sam who was starting to come back to himself, pushing his body up on his elbows, twisting to look the two versions of his brother that were in the room.

All at once, Sam realized what had happened, what he did and for the first time that night, he wanted to cover himself. Hide himself underneath layers and layers of clothing.

“He’s all yours, Dean.” The shifter taunted and Dean pulled the trigger. The shifter was dead before he hit the ground.

After the crack of the gun, there came the silence. Dean didn’t move any further into the room for a long while, looking at Sam who looked so much like a small child who was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing, eyes wide, hair in his face, seeing how pieces of his hair was stuck to his face because of the drying tears.

“Dean, I can…”

“Don’t.” Dean snapped, cutting Sam off, finally putting himself into gear, gathering all of their belongings. The only time that he looks at the shifter that was dead on the floor was to bend down to take back the necklace that hung wrongly around its neck. 

It was only a matter of minutes until the police showed up, drawn to the scene because of the gunshot and Dean had every intention to already be on the interstate by the time they showed up.

Dean passed Sam on the bed without so much of a second glance.

“And Sam…” Sam jerked his attention to his brother who had his back turned towards him. “Put some fucking clothes on.”

They were on the road in less than five minutes, motel room cleaned of everything that belonged to them, the shifter that still looked like Dean dead on the ground.

The silence that settled in the car between them was deafening. Sam could hear his heart pounding his his chest, the blood rushing past his ears as he tried to focus on the never ending line of trees outside his window and not the way that Dean’s jaw was clenched together and how his knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel.

He tried, once, to turn on the music, to defuse the tension that had settled in the car with sound but Dean immediately slapped the radio off just as quickly as Sam turned it on.

He chewed on the inside part of his cheek, everything that the shifter said running through his mind like a broken record. Everything that he said that Dean was thinking, that Dean thought was true. All the things that he wanted. All the things that he regretted. All the things that he didn’t know. That he wanted to be Sam’s first.

“I was still a virgin!” Sam blurted out, the words spilling from his lips, unable to keep it in anymore. Dean glanced over at Sam, eyes still blank, showing no emotion, for just a second before turning back to the road. “I was until he…” Sam trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Dean didn’t say anything for a while, his jaw working as he thought about what Sam said.

His voice startled Sam, deep and rough and sounding so torn. “What’d you let him do that to you, Sam?”

It was Sam’s turn to remain quiet. He swallowed what feels like a goose egg, eyes trained in front of him, looking at the never ending road. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still make out the profile of his brother.

“Cause I thought that he was you.” Sam answered, sounding so small.

Dean pursed his lips, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel but he didn’t say anything else. He didn’t even look at Sam and the tension that was in the air only grew thicker.

Sam wished that he could just sink into the seat and disappear. He wished that he didn’t have to feel the presence of his brother next to him and the ghost of the fingerprints that the shifter left on his skin. He wished that he could somehow make Dean forget about all of this, forget the way that he cried out for the man that he thought was his brother.

He learned a long time ago that monsters liked to fuck with your brain. They liked to say things that made your skin crawl and made you hope, anything to make you drop your guard, direct your attention elsewhere just long enough that they can kill you. He seemed to forget that when the shifter was telling him everything that he wanted to hear.

He seemed to forget that when the shifter was wearing his brother telling him that he wanted him just as much as he did.

He believed it, every word of it cause how could he not. The shifter was offering him his dreams on a silver platter. Of course he wasn’t going to deny what he was being offered.

They pulled into a motel that was just off the interstate, Dean’s jaw was still clenched shut as he got out of the car to go into the main office to get a room for the night. He came back, the key to the room clenched tight in his fist as he threw it to Sam, muttering that he was going to go get some air and he disappeared into the night.

It didn’t take much for Sam to figure out where Dean was going. There was a reason why he picked this motel and that reason was the fact that there was a bar within walking distance right down the road.

Sam stared after the retreating form of his brother, feeling so broken, so angry at everything. At himself for believing that Dean could ever want him. At the shifter for fucking up everything that they had been building.

He wanted to scream out, hit something, anything to alleviate the swelling anger that was inside him but he squeezed his fingers around the key, feeling the metal bite into his flesh and took a deep breath. This was on him. He was the one that allowed this to happen. He was the one who let Dean… the shifter, that thing, throw him down on the bed. He was the one that was stupid enough to actually believe that it was Dean. So he had no reason to be angry at anyone other than himself.

Right across the street, the neon lights shine into the night and Sam doesn’t even think twice before heading off in the direction of the liquor store.

Dean’s not drunk when he comes back to the motel room hours later, which surprises Sam because he isn’t exactly completely sober himself. Dean’s eyes are clear as he closed the door behind him, shrugged out of his jacket, setting it on the back of one of the motel chairs.

Sam sat up from where he was laying on the bed, fingers loosely wrapped around the neck of a bottle that he had bought just hours ago. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Dean to address him, if Dean’s ever going to speak to him again. Sam wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to talk to him again. He was dirty, filthy for ever thinking that Dean would want him in that way.

Sam watched as Dean moves, sitting down on the edge of the other bed, bending over to untie his shoes and kick them off. He’s methodically slow, every movement precise as if he’s trying to avoid the elephant in the room. As if he’s trying to ignore Sam.

Sam makes up his mind, swinging his feet off the bed and on the floor. There’s still several dollars in his wallet and it’s clear that Dean doesn’t want to be around him right now. Why else would be sitting as far as possible from him?

He walked past Dean, head bent trying to leave as quietly as possible. Best not to draw attention to himself although he knows that Dean’s watching him, smelling the alcohol that clinged to him.

He jumped, literally jumped when Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s wrist, stopping him. Sam looked down at the hand that’s around his wrist and then at the arm that it’s connected to and finally settling on Dean who’s not even looking at him. His eyes are fixed on some spot behind Sam’s head and he fights away the pain at that realization.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks, his voice thick, completely void of any kind of emotion.

Sam shrugs his shoulders, ignoring the fact that Dean’s still holding onto his wrist, his grip hasn’t loosened. “I don’t know. I was gonna get another room for the night to give you… So you wouldn’t have to be around me.”

“You’re not leaving, Sam.” Dean suddenly let go of Sam’s wrist like the touch burned him. “Go… go sit back down.”

Sam nodded even though he knows that Dean doesn’t see that and sat back down on the edge of his bed, staring at his older brother who now had dropped his head, holding it in his hands that were resting on his legs. He looked so old, so tired, so weighted.

“How could you let him do that to you?” Dean repeated the same question that he asked in the car.

Sam knows that he’s looking for different answer, one that wasn’t as fucked up as the one that Sam had given him in the first place but there wasn’t a lie that Sam could come up with that he could even make himself remotely believe. There was only one answer for that question and he had already said it.

“Because I thought that it was…”

“Me.” Dean cut him off, finishing his statement. “Yeah, you said that but why?” Dean lifted his head, turning towards Sam and he can see the tears shining in his eyes. “You thought it was me and you let him do that to you. Why?”

Sam swallowed. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he couldn’t speak. His mouth wouldn’t open to say the words that he needed to say.

“Sam… He had you pinned down on the bed, fucking you…” Sam flinched at Dean’s crude language despite the fact that it was true. “And you… you came. You came with his… with my… you thought it was me and you still came.”

“Yeah, well what do you want me to say, Dean?” Sam suddenly shouts and it’s Dean’s turn to flinch. “Do you want to hear that I liked it? Fine, I liked it. Do you want to hear that I’ve been wanting ever since I learned what sex was? I’ve jacked off more times to the thought of you than I can count and that shifter… he looked like you, Dean and he was saying things and I…” He dropped his head in shame.

“But you had to know that it wasn’t me.”

Yeah, how? How was he supposed to know that it wasn’t Dean? His mind was clouded with want and desire. He sure as hell wasn’t thinking straight.

“He looked like you.” Sam replied back dumbly, like that would be enough.

“But you had to know cause I wouldn’t have treated you like that.” There wasn’t anything harsh, there wasn’t any disgust in his voice and when Sam lifted his head to look at Dean, he saw that Dean was looking at him.

“Yeah, I know. You wouldn’t have touched me like that.” Sam muttered back bitterly.

“That’s not what I meant!” Dean snapped, his voice cracking at the end. He ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath before looking at his brother again. “That’s not what I meant, Sam. He was… he was rough with you. You were crying and he… he didn’t care… Sam, I would have…”

He trailed off, dropping his head.

Sam looked at the bent form of his brother sitting on the edge of the bed. He swallowed thickly once more before climbing to his feet, rather clumsy, he drank more than he thought and he dropped to his knees in front of Dean. He placed a hand on Dean’s knee, just barely touching him, fully prepared to back off if Dean flinched or if he all of the sudden lashed out. But Dean just looked at the hand on his knee.

They stare at each other, Sam’s wide desperate eyes searching Dean’s beautiful green eyes that were void of any kind of emotion. And just when Sam thinks that he can see something blooming underneath the nothingness, Dean stands up suddenly, Sam’s hand falling from his knee, shaking his head.

“Sammy, I can’t… It’s my fault that you’re…” He’s still shaking his head, grabbing onto the edge of the tv stand as if it were the only thing that was keeping him upright.

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked, climbing back up to his feet, taking a small step towards Dean but he left room between the two of them. Dean never reacted well when he was backed into a corner and he shut down, Sam wasn’t going to hear anything else come from his brother.

Dean looked at him with these pained eyes. “Sam…”

And all at once realization hit Sam with a force that nearly knocked him down. “You think that it’s your fault that I love you, that I want you in that way?” He’s not accusing Dean of anything but Dean still looks away as if he were guilty for doing something. “Dean…” He’s breathless.

He takes another cautious step forward, hands out in front of his body, giving Dean all the time in the world to back away, step to the side, to tell Sam to stop but Dean only watches him as he steps closer.

They’re inches apart, Sam curling his shoulders inward, shrinking to where he was nearly the same height of his brother. Another breath passes and Sam raised his hand, cupping the side of Dean’s face… and Dean leans into the touch, closing his eyes for just a moment before opening them again, looking at Sam with this terrified expression.

Sam doesn’t think, he can’t think about what he’s about to do because if he does then he’s going to tuck tail and run. So he doesn’t think. He closed the distance between the two of them, pressing their lips together briefly, once again giving Dean the opportunity to move away but he doesn’t. He craned his neck upward, seeking out the warmth of Sam’s lips.

This is what Sam always imagined kissing his brother would feel like, taste like. Now that he’s had both he realizes that the shifter got everything wrong. Dean was rough or aggressive (although he imagined that Dean could be). Dean was full of soft touches and caring touches. 

He’s all about giving rather than taking.

They pull away from each other, foreheads resting against each other and Sam can finally see into those shielded eyes and all he sees is want and desire.

Sam’s happy with this, at least for now. He could live with the fact that he kissed his brother and that his brother kissed him back. He wasn’t looking for anything more. Wasn’t expecting anything more from Dean but Dean places his hand in the middle of Sam’s chest, pushing him back towards the bed.

Sam dropped down when the back of his knees hit the bed and Dean’s still pushing him down until he’s laying on his back, Dean hovering over him, arms planted on either side of his body, one knee in between his legs, his other just on the outside of him.

He leaned forward, still holding himself up on his heads, noses barely touching before he dropped down to his elbows and he was kissing Sam again. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him down closer, impossibly close.

They pull away again, this time it’s because their lungs are screaming for air but Dean doesn’t go far. He kissed his way down Sam’s neck, resting his tongue for just a moment on his pulse.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Sammy.” Dean muttered along Sam’s neck, his fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling the way that the muscles in his stomach shifted and moved under his touch. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve waited.”

He kissed back up Sam’s neck, pulling on his bottom lip for just a moment before he’s kissing him again. Sam’s all the more willing to let Dean over take him, push his tongue into his mouth and taste him. Dean wanted to take it slow, explore Sam’s mouth but he can’t. Sam’s holding him, nearly kissing him back with this feverish passion and Dean’s hard and he just needs Sam.

He tugs Sam’s shirt up and over his head, leaving his chest bare. Even though everything in his body is screaming at him to pull down the sweatpants that Sam had changed into, Dean wills himself to slow down, to take his time. They could kiss dirty but this, he was going to memorize every line of Sam’s body.

He noses along Sam’s jaw, settling on that spot right below his ear where his hair just starts to curl and he sucked, leaving his own mark.

He trails his hand back down Sam’s body, down along his chest, just barely above the waistband of his sweatpants, teasing along the skin and Sam bucked up against Dean.

“Needy little bastard,” Dean muttered against Sam’s neck, chuckling before reaching down to pull down his underwear and sweatpants. Sam lifted his hips just high enough that Dean can pull them down over his thighs and Sam kicks them the rest of the way off.

Dean pulled himself up just high enough to grab the back of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He makes quick work of taking off his jeans, needing to feel Sam pressed back up against him.

He draped his body back down along Sam’s, kissing him deeper this time as he reached down between the two of them and wrapped his fingers around the base of Sam’s cock.

Sam bucked up against Dean, the touch being everything that he wanted and he can’t help but moan. Sam feels so right in Dean’s hand, hot and heavy.

Dean moved his hand up and down Sam’s cock, jerking him off with as much love and devotion as he could. It was slow and rough and it had Sam writhing underneath Dean, fingers digging into the comforter.

He’s beautiful like this. Beautiful pinned underneath him and not some mock imitation of him. He’s beautiful with sweat starting to shine along his tanned body, looking up at Dean, mouth slightly agape.

Dean feels weak, like he’s going to break at any moment. That this dream was going to shatter and he was going to wake up in a world that doesn’t have Sam wanting him. He has to bite his lip, focusing on nothing more than his breathing and the constant movement of his hand because if he listens to Sam’s breathlessly moans, this is all going to be over way too soon. 

He wanted to drag this out, make it last, cause fuck, he’s waited his entire life.

Sam keeps bucking up into Dean’s hand, trying to take more from Dean but Dean pins him down on the bed with his other hand, keeping him still.

“Shh…” Dean muttered when Sam whines, he fucking whines and Dean’s kissing him again, wondering why he stopped in the first place.

He can’t get enough of Sam. He wants to touch him, to feel him, to taste him, to hear him. He wants everything, so much so that it’s a sensory overload and he’s sure that he’s in heaven.

Dean’s still running his hand up and down Sam’s cock, slowly picking up speed, ever so often running his thumb over the head of his cock, causing full body shivers. Sam grabbed onto Dean’s shoulders, blunt nails digging into his back. It’s almost painful but Dean only wants more.

“You’re so perfect, Sammy.” Dean mutters, breaking the kiss just for a moment to look down between their bodies at his fingers wrapped around Sam’s cock and he makes this strangled grunt at the sight.

Dean’s hard and aching and he wants to do nothing more than rut against Sam’s hip, get off on just the feeling of skin against skin but Sam’s so close and he doesn’t want to miss the beauty that he’s sure is his brother when it comes.

“Dean…” Sam moans, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” And Dean does.

Sam’s bucking up into Dean now and Dean doesn’t even try to keep him down. He watched Sam as he grew closer and closer to his own release. His mouth is opened slightly, eyes squeezed shut as Dean keeps jerking him off.

Dean leaned down to kiss either one of his eye lids. “Open your eyes, Sammy. I wanna see you.”

And Sam does. He opens his eyes, staring up into the green ones that were staring back at him and it doesn’t take much more than that for him to come over Dean’s fingers and coating his stomach.

Dean’s panting, still hovering over Sam, just watching him as Sam tries to regain his breath that seems to have left him. Dean pulls himself from Sam’s body, climbing off the bed to search around in his bag for a bottle of lube and when he climbs back on top of Sam, his eyes are no longer glazed over with that post-orgasm bliss. He’s looking up at Dean with hunger and want and desire and underneath it all, there’s fear.

“Please, Dean, don’t… please don’t take this away from me.” He begged, his voice still sounding broken and Dean bends down to kiss his again.

“I couldn’t do that to you, Sammy.” Dean replied. “I’m with you, forever. Now, roll over for me, sweetheart.”

Sam did and Dean moved up the bed just a little bit, sitting back on his heels as he opened the bottle of lube and poured it over his fingers, just enough to prep Sam. He runs his fingers against Sam’s rim and he bent down, placing gentle kisses up and down Sam’s back, making sure there isn’t a single piece of skin that Dean hasn’t tasted.

Sam kept trying to push back against Dean but Sam gripped his hip with his free hand, keeping him still. Dean slid one finger inside him, then another, making small scissoring movements to stretch him, in and out, twisting them. As Dean pushed a third finger into his little brother, Sam was already close to coming, having a hard time staying still.

He pulled his fingers out, tapping Sam on the hip, telling him to roll back over on his back and he was kissing him again. Long and hard. He spread Sam’s legs, moving in between them and then he was pushing himself inside of Sam.

He went slow, giving Sam time to adjust to him. Dean has to keep his breath steady, still has to focus on his breathing before Sam is everything that he ever thought he would be. When he’s fully seated inside of Sam, he stays still, listening to his own heart pounding in his chest.

Sam was the one who moved first. He rolled his body up against Dean, urging Dean to move and Dean was happy to oblige.

It was a dance between the two boys. They moved together, working with each other, slow and steady, everything slowly starting to build. Sam would push up against Dean when Dean pulled nearly all the way out and Dean would push forward whenever Sam would pull back.

Dean went as slow as he could, keeping every movement precise as he pulled beautiful sounds from Sam’s mouth.

He found that treacherous mark that the shifter left on Sam and he closed his lips around the purpling skin. Sam flinched when he felt Dean lick over it. Dean sucked, pulled at the skin with his teeth, leaving his own mark over what the shifter left and then pulled away to admire how his brother’s skin seem to glow with his saliva coating the purpling mark.

Sam ran his hands through Dean’s hair, down his back, feeling the wide expanse of his back and then back up to run his fingers back through his hair.

Dean grabbed one of Sam’s hand, kissing the pads of his fingertips before tangling his hand with his, resting it down on the bed beside Sam’s head.

Slowly things started to become more desperate. Dean moved faster against Sam and Sam cried out for Dean.

Soon the only thing that could be heard in the motel room were broken off moans and half finished names as the slid against each other. With Dean’s other hand, he wrapped it around Sam’s cock, feeling the way that he jumped underneath the touch.

Sam bucked up into Dean’s hand and Dean was whispering in Sam’s ear, telling him to come, that he was right behind him.

It didn’t take much. Dean twisted his wrist and Sam stilled underneath Dean for a moment and then he’s coming, coating Dean’s hand and his stomach and Dean can’t think of anything that’s more beautiful than his brother.

Dean doesn’t hold out much longer, his hips snapping up into Sam, choked off moans falling from lips. Sam closed his legs around Dean’s hips, pulling him impossibly close and Dean buries his head in the crook of Sam’s shoulder as he comes.

They stay there like that for what seems like forever, neither one of them wanting to move. Dean’s still kissing Sam, peppering his face with kisses, down his neck, his chest and Sam’s holding Dean close, running his fingers through his hair.

Dean pulls away long after he’s gone soft and slipped out of Sam. He presses a short kiss to his forehead before climbing off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. Sam can hear water running and then moments later, Dean returns with two towels in his hand, one of them wet.

Dean’s careful as he’s cleans Sam up. He can see the bruises that the shifter left on Sam’s hips and he dragged his lips over them, kissing them.

Sam laid there, watching Dean, wondering once again how the hell he got it so wrong. How he ever thought for a single second that the shifter was Dean. This was Dean. He could be rough but he was caring and as much as he would deny it, he loved the softer things. He loved the lingering touches and the touchy-feely crap. He might bruise Sam’s body but he would care for it too.

That’s who his brother was.

When Dean seemed happy with his work, with cleaning Sam up, he pulled the blankets back and Sam crawled underneath them, fully expecting Dean fall into the other bed despite what just happened but he was surprised when Dean crawled up next to him underneath the covers.

“Roll over, bitch,” Dean muttered when Sam was still laying on his back and Sam rolled over onto his side and Dean wrapped his body around Sam’s, one leg draped over Sam’s, arms around Sam’s waist and he buried his head up against Sam’s back.

Sam sighed, closing his eyes and covering one of Dean’s hands with his own, happy and content and knowing that this was his brother sleeping behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> So you read all 10,000 of those words. This is one of the longest pieces of fiction that I have ever written in a single sitting (took me more or less a day to write the whole thing). Thoughts, comments, and opinions are always welcomed.


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